


Play On

by tartanroyaltea



Series: Pay to Play [2]
Category: British Actor RPF, Tom Hiddleston - Fandom
Genre: Angst, Dom/sub Undertones, Established Relationship, F/M, Romance, TomLotte, awkward ex reunion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-08
Updated: 2015-07-08
Packaged: 2018-04-08 08:41:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,848
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4298169
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tartanroyaltea/pseuds/tartanroyaltea
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fate finally brings Tom and Charlotte back into each others' paths.<br/>Set just under a year after the end of 'Pay to Play'.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Play On

**Author's Note:**

> A one-shot/epilogue of sorts. I couldn't leave my babies in limbo!  
> No sexy shenanigans, just some swearing and a much-needed discussion between Tom and Charlotte.

“Fuck my life!”

“Charlotte, are you alright?” Matthew enquired, peering around the edge of the menu behind which I had hidden my blushing face.

“Hm? Oh, uh yes…just eh…thought I saw one of my professors. O’Brien, I hate that guy…but uh, it isn’t him, after all,” I babbled, lying straight through my teeth.  I gathered my wits (what remained of them) and tried very hard not to stare at the person who had caused me to swear so profusely in front of my Christian boyfriend in a very swanky restaurant.

Matthew smiled good-naturedly, more than used to my strangeness, and began to peruse his dessert menu for the millionth time. I chewed my lip, counted to ten and surreptitiously glanced across the restaurant at the man being guided to a table by the maitre d’.

It had been nearly a year since I’d seen him, but even at a glance there was no doubting it was him; from his gait, the aura of supreme confidence that always surrounded him, and the impeccable cut of his slim suit, I knew who it was even without properly seeing his face. ‘ _Mine eyes deceiveth me not.’_

My stomach bubbled threateningly as he pulled out a chair for his date, a pretty, tall girl with fair hair, laughing animatedly at something he had said. I felt my all-too familiar anxiety flaring up for the first time in weeks. After Tom and I…ended, I had been a nervous wreck, struggling to hold my shit together. Really, I should have availed of on-campus counselling, but I was too mortified to find myself playing the role of ‘broken-hearted, jilted woman’ so I relied on Sara’s tough-ass encouragement and did my best to erase Tom from my mind. It didn’t go so well as I convinced myself it would.

“Char, you sure you’re okay? You look a little pale- or, paler than usual,” Matthew remarked, touching the back of my hand and watching me with concern.

“Huh? Oh, yes. I feel a bit ill, actually. I think I’ll just nip to the bathroom,” I said, perhaps a tad too loudly. I leapt to my feet and asked a passing waiter where the loos were, cursing all of the deities as he pointed in the direction Tom was sitting, cocooned with his beautiful date. ‘ _Fantastic.’_

I took the long way round, ducking behind waiters, plants and fellow patrons in my quest to reach the bathroom unnoticed. I sighed with relief as I slid into the little bathroom and bolted the door behind me. My heart was hammering, and a glance in the mirror showed an ashy pale face with two blooms of red on my cheeks. ‘ _I look hideous. Even more reason for Tom not to see me.’_

I patted a hint of cold water onto my neck and sat on the toilet seat with my head between my legs, trying to calm myself down and pull my shit together. ‘ _It’s okay…it’s fine. I’ll just tell Matthew I feel sick and need to head home, and that’ll avoid any awkward run-ins_. _He’ll understand, and I’ll make it up to him later. Maybe suggest a dessert-only dinner later in the week. Okay. That’s what I’ll do, go out, say I’m sick, ask for the bill and leave. Sorted. Yes, good.’_

I did feel guilty lying to Matthew –or, ‘stretching the truth’, in all honesty I _did_ feel sick- but it was an emotion I was used to feeling around Matthew. He was such a lovely boy, so sweet and kind, and he was a fellow doctor-in-training. We were perfect together, everyone said so…but he didn’t make my heart do silly flip-flops like you-know-who had. I frowned at my reflection, imagining shaking the love-sick idiot right out of myself. If only.

With a sigh of despair I brushed at the stray eyeliner under my eyes, fluffed my hair, squared my shoulders and strode out of the bathroom.

“Hello.”

‘ _Fuck my life.’_

Ice flooded every nerve in my body as I turned slowly, feeling panic battle with ridiculous, embarrassing delight as I turned to see Tom, leaning up against the wall by the bathroom door. He looked so _good_ , dressed up in that blue three-piece suit that never failed to make my mouth water. His dark hair was exactly the same, but he was sporting light stubble which, if possible, made his sharp features and piercing blue eyes look even more attractive. The bastard.

I couldn’t say anything; my mouth opened and closed in my best impersonation of a fish. Tom stood up straight and moved away from the wall, but didn’t come any closer to me. His eyes were big and blue and fixed on mine with that near-unnerving intensity that I had become so accustomed to.

“Charlotte…” And with that one word, said so softly, so caringly, it was as if the past ten months had never happened. My heart fluttered, my brain buzzing with warm happiness and the corners of my mouth involuntarily curved upwards at the sound of that rich, velvety voice saying my name. Tom smiled back, tentatively, an unsureness I had never really known in him etched in every line of his gorgeous face; the face that I had missed so much, had retraced in my mind every night as I drifted off…

The memory of when I had last seen him so cautious, so uncertain, flickered uninvited in my mind, and the beginnings of my smile died as I took a determined step backwards, away from him. I tried to re-harness the anger that was the only thing that had held the pieces of me together after our ugly split, but it was much harder to ‘hate’ him when he was standing right in front of me, rapidly reminding me of all the reasons I had fallen for him like a total fool. As the days had marched on, the anger and sense of victimisation had slowly made room for a glimmer of guilt, something I kept hidden from Sara. But there it was, reminding me that, in spite of all he had done for me, how kind and wonderful he had been, I hadn’t even given him the courtesy of being willing to hear his side of things. My memories of the day it all went down, and the days immediately after, were distinctly blurred…but I remembered that how I felt was eerily similar to the way I had reacted to my grandfather’s death. If anything, that realisation made me resent Tom even more; my love for him had left my much-prized reason in the dust. I had lied to myself, to Sara, to my Nana. _I_ had done all of those things, not Tom; it was a distinction I could finally make, many months later, but at the time, anger was all I had.

Tom was still watching me expectantly, but with a certain tension in his frame that suggested he expected me to leg it at any given moment.

‘ _Good idea. Get Matthew, and leave...Now. Stop staring at him you twit, move your-’_

“I missed you, Charlotte,” Tom said, simply, his sincerity shining through the look in his eyes. My heart dropped to my feet as I gaped at him, even more unsure of what to do. Old Tom didn’t do the ‘feels’, and he certainly didn’t share them so eagerly. I hadn’t really minded that, happy to be the sappier of the two of us, but sappy Tom…well, he was already proving tricky to resist.

“Uh, I should go…” I muttered weakly, shaking my head and patting invisible creases out of my dress.

“Did you miss me?” Tom prompted, his gaze flickering to the floor before meeting mine again, his expression almost bashful.

“No,” I responded automatically. It wasn’t entirely untrue. ‘ _I ached for you, went half mad with heart break over you, you bastard.’_ The word ‘miss’ didn’t seem to encompass how I had felt, like a boat drifting aimlessly and terrifyingly around a strange ocean.

I didn’t even believe myself, but Tom’s face crumpled for a split second before he could recover his easy manner.

“I never let myself think about you,” I added, all but reciting the myriad of things I had practiced saying to him when we were apart. Another lie.

Tom sighed, glancing away for a moment. “You’re all I ever think about, Charlotte. What I did to you…I can’t forgive myself, for hurting you…for ruining the best thing I ever had.”

I bit my lip until it stung, closing my eyes for a beat of ten to try and quell the tears that were threatening to gush out and give away the extent of my emotional vulnerability. In my imaginary confrontations with Tom, he had never been so sincere and tender, he had continued to lie and I had continued to hate him.

“Stop. Just, stop. What are you doing, Tom? It’s…it was a long time ago. We’ve both got someone else now and that’s great. It all worked out for the best,” I said, my voice sounding distinctly hollow.

Tom’s brow crinkled in confusion. “I don’t-”

Sensing a new level to the conversation, I decided it was time to bring the painful proceedings to a close. “Look, I should really go now. Bye.”

I had only turned and taken one tiny step when Tom’s fingers gently caught around my wrist, firmly holding me in place. My skin fizzed even at such a pedestrian touch and I bit back a curse. Nothing Matthew had ever done had made me feel like _that_.

“Charlotte, wait. Please. I have been desperate to talk to you all these months, to smooth things over, but you’ve never given me a chance…” He said, coaxing me to turn round and face him again. My stomach fluttered at the close proximity and I tried valiantly not to get high on the smell of him. “Please, I only ask that you let me apologise and explain-”

“You mean lie,” I replied snappishly, feeling my anger make one last attempt to save the day.

“No. No more lies, Charlotte. No more omissions, or secrets. I’ll tell you everything, I’ll do anything you want,” he pleaded, his expression caught between hope and fear.

“Here? Now?” I blurted out, glancing nervously at the door behind me, certain that someone was bound to come marching through and catch us having an intimate chit chat.

“No. Are you free tomorrow?”

I paused, ready to say ‘no.’ ‘ _No more lies.’_

“Yes,” I sighed, kissing my resolve goodbye. Tom grinned, his features transformed with boyish delight, and I found myself automatically mirroring his happiness. ‘ _I’d rather be kissing him…No, stop it!’_

“Let’s go for lunch, or coffee. Wherever you like.” ‘ _Sounds like a date…?’_

“I have a boyfriend,” I said suddenly, taking us both by surprise. In fairness it was true, and Matthew may not be too thrilled at the prospect of me lunching with my ex.

Tom’s smile flickered and dimmed. “Yes, so I saw. Have you…been together long?” he enquired, so cordially a passer-by might suspect we were just acquaintances, not ex-lovers. But I knew him well enough to detect the edge in his voice, the pain my statement had caused him.

“Today is our three month-iversary,” I replied, altogether sorry I had brought it up at all. My desire to cause Tom emotional pain had left as fast as it had appeared; I didn’t want to make him sad, especially by implying that I was smitten for another man. Because I wasn’t; I knew it for certain in that moment. I still loved Tom, stupidly and hopelessly, but it was still there, in spite of everything, coming back to life now that I was in his presence.

My stomach swooped with sadness as I realised that I had never told Tom those three little words, and likely now never would. Had he loved me, too? I had pondered that question for months, an endless reel playing in my mind. There were times when I convinced myself that he definitely had, or could have; at my Nana’s house, laughing over my baby pictures, when he held me after I cried about Nana’s illness and told him about my mother. It wasn’t just sex, and it wasn’t just money, that much I was sure of.

“Congratulations,” Tom responded mechanically, his face its usual mask of cool indifference. But his eyes gave him away.

I felt too guilty, leaving it like that. “So, what time are we meeting tomorrow? I’m thinking Binky’s, on the Strand?”

Tom blinked in surprise, disappointment turned to joy in an instant, in a few simple words. Another little sign, a piece of hope for me to hold onto.

“Twelve o’clock. Don’t be late,” he said, his lips twitching in amusement, no doubt recalling our first ‘date’, as I was. Oddly, it didn’t pain me to think about it while I was standing there with him. It was like his presence unsharpened the memory, reminding me that it was actually a happy one, despite how strictly I had locked it away in the back of my mind.

“I won’t. I’ll see you then,” I responded, sounding distinctly mushy. I moved to leave again, but he forgot to let me go. I stared down pointedly at my wrist, his long, elegant fingers coiled possessively around it, keeping me in his orbit. He released me with reluctance, his fingertips skimming erotically over my fluttering pulse point in a slow, drawn-out motion.

“Until tomorrow, Charlotte,” he murmured, his eyes not leaving me until I had ducked back out into the restaurant.

I scurried back over to our table, explaining to Matthew that I was feeling poorly.

“You do look a bit flushed. I hope it isn’t the flu,” he said, gesturing for the waiter. I covered up my rosy cheeks and said nothing, feeling distinctly sheepish about what had just happened.

As Matthew and I exited the restaurant, I couldn’t resist glancing in Tom’s direction. He caught my eye, giving me a subtle wink, and I found myself smiling idiotically all the way to the tube station.

*

“I’m a horrible person!” I whined to the reflection in the mirror. Frankly, it was the only person I could tell about my rendezvous with Tom: Nana would be far too enthusiastic (she still held out great hopes for ‘Tomlotte’), Sara would have my head, and Matthew _may_ have had a thing or two to say about me meeting up with my ex. Hence why I was a horrible person, about to get back into that place of secrets and subterfuge that I had sworn I wouldn’t broach ever again.

If I’m honest, it was a _touch_ exhilarating, to be doing something I _knew_ I really shouldn’t. ‘ _Maybe this is how people get hooked on affairs.’_ I frowned at my reflection: I wasn’t having an affair with Tom, I was just going to talk to him over a cup of coffee. Not a date, not romantic, just a much-needed conversation between two people who used to be crazy about each other.

I sighed, realising I wasn’t even fooling myself (or my reflection). _Of course_ I still had feelings for Tom, and _of course_ it wasn’t just a simple case of two friends meeting up for a gossip after months of separation. It was a pair of exes reliving and rehashing some excruciating stuff, and I was absolutely sick with nerves, so much so that I considered flaking on the whole thing. But whenever I seriously considered it, that hopeful look on Tom’s face flashed in my mind’s eye and I knew that I owed it to both of us to go and listen to what he had to say.

Even if it was going to turn me into an emotional wreck.

*

I arrived at Binky’s five minutes early, planning to use the sliver of extra time to compose and ready myself for Tom’s arrival.

Unfortunately, Tom’s ability to immediately place me on the hind foot hadn’t changed since our relationship ended, and I walked into the busy coffee shop to find him already occupying a prime position in the far corner, by the arched windows looking out onto the Strand.

I hesitated in the doorway, observing Tom from a distance while I had the opportunity. He was staring out at the street with a slightly glazed expression, and I found myself eager to know what he was thinking about. Was he thinking about work? Was he watching an attractive woman stroll past? Was he thinking about me, planning all the things he wanted to say?

As if in answer, one of his large hands suddenly reached up to unconsciously smooth his tie- a nervous tic, perhaps? His gaze had sharpened; now he watched the street outside with interest, his piercing gaze scanning it, and I knew instinctively that he was looking for me. Maybe he was even worrying that I would be a no-show. The thought had definitely crossed my mind.

I sighed lightly, deciding to put him out of his misery. I had walked all of three steps towards him before Tom’s head turned in my direction, his face momentarily showing relief before it took on its usual mask of calm confidence.

Tom smiled easily and gestured to the armchair opposite him. Annoyance flickered in me when I realised I had marginally picked up the pace in response to his silent command. Knee-jerk reaction.

“Hi,” I managed, without sounding too timid, as I took my place across from him, dropping my bag rather unceremoniously to the floor.

“Charlotte,” Tom murmured, tilting his head toward me in a slight nod. He was all calm composure, but his eyes darted all over me, cataloguing every inch, and I felt a flush of embarrassment rush across my throat. Our run-in the previous night had caught us both off guard, but in the light of day, Tom was back to himself- the self I had known so well, sharp, charming, and sexually magnetic.

I was extremely grateful when the waiter arrived, breaking the intensity of Tom’s stare. Our orders were taken within a minute, and then there was really not much else for us to do but talk.

Of course, Tom went first.

“I must confess, I hadn’t held out much hope that you would appear, Charlotte,” Tom noted, lips and tongue and velvety voice curling around my name. I crossed my legs, conjuring a self-mocking smile.

“You know me, I’m full of surprises.” Tom smirked, both of us amused by the untruth of my statement.

“At the risk of entering dangerous and clichéd territory…how have you been?” He enquired, killing two smiles with one question. Tom didn’t take his eyes off me, and I tried to look anywhere else but at him. Dozens of people streamed past us outside, all hustling and bustling to get somewhere in a hurry. I didn’t realise how long I had been staring aimlessly out the window until the waiter returned, placing our orders before us and retreating with our thanks.

“You’re right. It is clichéd…and dangerous. But I’ll answer you, anyway,” I replied slowly, focussing intently on pouring sugar into my latte.

“I’ve been good...the last few months. I passed fourth year with really good marks, and I did several hospital placements too. I’m thinking of continuing on after final year and specialising in obstetrics. I sold Nana’s house, our house, just after Christmas. It was hard, but the market was good and we got a great price for it. Nana’s still in Oaktree Hill, but her condition hasn’t worsened too much since last year, which is a blessing. I’m still living with Saranya, but we just moved up near Hampstead last month, it’s a much nicer area than before, but our flat is almost literally a shoe box…” My unemotional monologue came to a close as I ran out of neutral things to say. I could have told Tom about Matthew, or about the horrible months I spent painstakingly carving him out of my heart and mind, but I had no desire to be the first to bring in the heavy emotional artillery.

I glanced up at Tom, and he smiled, a little wanly.

“I’m glad to hear that your studies are going well-not that it surprises me at all- and that your grandmother is in good health.”

Tom took a sip of his Americano, and I took the plunge.

“And how have you been?” I prodded, so eager to hear his answer, but also a touch embarrassed to ask. I knew that he would also give me a carefully neutral answer, but I knew that I wanted so much more: I wanted emotions, I wanted apologies and explanations and declarations of love on a Disney scale.

But that just wasn’t Tom, and it wasn’t really me, either.

“Better,” was his short reply. I blinked at him, feeling a little like I’d just been slapped. ‘ _He was so earnest last night. He was definitely happy to see me; he missed me, I could see it in his eyes.’_

“I’ve been better,” Tom clarified, catching my shocked expression. “Namely, when I was with you, Charlotte. I was at my best, then.” I swallowed around the lump in my throat as Tom unnecessarily stirred his coffee. “It’s all been rather downhill from there, I’m afraid. Not that I have anyone to blame but myself,” he added softly, looking back up at me. My heart fluttered, already starting to be lulled by his sweet words and beautiful face.

“I’m not interested in placing blame, Tom. You promised me an explanation…and I came here to listen to it,” I said, my voice sounding far stronger and calmer than I truly felt.

Tom stared at me for a long beat, a small smile curving his lips and etching crinkles at the edges of his bright eyes. “You’ve changed,” he noted, his voice slow and thoughtful, “You’re much more…collected. Commanding.” My cheeks blushed in defiance of what he said, but he didn’t take it back.

“I suppose I’ve grown up a bit, yes,” I said, cautiously, knowing that our conversation was becoming more deep. We both knew the reason for my newfound ‘maturity’.

“I’m to blame for that, too,” Tom murmured, ruefully.

“I like to think that it’s a positive change. I couldn’t go around thinking life would be like a Disney movie forever,” I reasoned. Tom nodded thoughtfully, running the tip of his index finger along the lines of his slim lips; a gesture that I recognized well, and one which had the benefit of drawing my eyes to his lovely mouth, and all the wonderful things I knew it was capable of-

‘ _Mind. Get out of the gutter, and back into the nice café’._

“Indeed. Although, it pains me to have been the villain in your story. I only ever wanted to sweep you off your feet,” Tom remarked, ruefully. His uncharacteristic self-deprecation made sympathy well up in me, and I fought the urge to reach out and touch his hand in comfort. ‘ _No! Be strong, woman. Get your explanation!’_

“You did sweep me off my feet, continuously,” I admitted, mirroring the small smile that grew on his face at my words. “But…then you just sort of _dropped_ me. How could you…how could you have lied to me for _six months_?” My voice descended into an angry, wounded whisper, my brain unable to stop the flow of words that had plagued me since the day his horrid secretary knocked him off the gilded pedestal I had placed him on.

Tom smoothed down his tie again, his face pinched, but eyes firmly holding my accusatory glare.

“As I told you…before, I was afraid, Charlotte. I knew that I would lose you if I told you, and I couldn’t bear the thought of it. So I convinced myself that I was making the best of a bad situation, and ignored all of the logic showing me how foolishly I was behaving. Then I promised myself that I would tell you, that I would manage to find the right moment, and everything would be well between us. But you found out before that, and understandably, you couldn’t forgive me,” he said, sadly, and I felt tears prickle in my eyes. “I coaxed you here with the promise of an explanation, perhaps an excuse, Charlotte, but the truth is, I don’t have one. At least, not a satisfactory one. I was selfish, utterly selfish in how I dealt with the whole matter. All I could focus on was the fear of losing you, and I prioritised it above your trust, your happiness. I should have told you from the beginning…but, I suppose, there is little sense in thinking like that. I haven’t managed to build a time-machine, since last I saw you,” he added, both of us smiling sadly at his small joke.

“I told you all of this -and more- before. In the letters I sent you. I assume you didn’t read them?” Tom asked, watching me carefully. I shook my head, suddenly sorry that I hadn’t. Saranya had disposed of the letters which had arrived daily after the split, then weekly, monthly, until not at all. I saw that Tom had given up, and decided I would strive to do the same.

I found myself suddenly informing Tom of all of this, seeing his reactions as he realised just how hard I had worked to cut him out of my life and mind.

“That’s why I never let myself think about you,” I finished, fidgeting with the bangle on my wrist, “It took me so long, so much pain, to stop thinking about you every bloody second! I kept a tally of all the days since I’d last seen you. I promised myself that when I covered a page, I’d officially be over you.” I blushed, immediately regretting imparting that last titbit of information. ‘ _Oh god, I must sound like such a loser!’_

Tom seemed truly lost for words, one of the few times I had seen him so. His eyes were glossy when they looked back at me.

“Have you filled the page, yet?” That small, sad smile resurfaced. I swallowed, blinking rapidly.

“Not quite,” I admitted. Another few months would have done it. “I suppose…it wasn’t meant to be,” I added, hesitantly.

Tom stared at me, uncertain. “Yes, perhaps you’re right. I’ve never been much of a believer in destiny, but perhaps you and I were simply never meant to…work.”

“Oh, no! I mean…the page. Maybe I was never meant to fill it. Maybe you popped up right when you were supposed to,” I said, a bubble of happiness glimmering within me at the thought. I didn’t really believe in fate either, maybe it was chance that brought our paths back together. Whatever it was, I was suddenly, incredibly glad to be sitting across from Tom in that little café on a Monday afternoon.

Tom smiled, a proper toothy grin that showed up his dimples and the lines decorating the corners of his eyes and lips. It was as if the sun had parted the clouds on a dreary day.

“Do you really think so, Charlotte?” He asked, sounding as happy as I suddenly felt.

“I do.”

“Do you also think…that there is a chance we may be able to salvage our relationship?” He added, tentatively. I paused, forcing myself to really think it through.

I was happy, in that moment. I had been happy many times with Tom during our relationship. In fact, I would go so far to say that it was the happiest I had ever been. I had been heartbroken, utterly _desolate_ when we ended, and the happiness that slowly emerged in the months following often seemed to me…hollow. On emotions alone, it was an easy answer. My heart knew what it wanted.

But my head had a few more things to consider.

“Tom, I’ve heard your explanation, and I’m grateful to you for telling me, but there are a few things I want to say, before I answer your question.” Tom nodded, immediately, and I took a deep breath, gathering myself.

“The big thing that really ate me up the past few months is that you said our relationship was about trust and communication, and I tried to give you both of those things as I best I could… but all you did was lie to me from day one! If you had just been honest about Carina, I probably would’ve stayed with you. I was mad about you. I…I really needed you, more than I think you knew. More than I knew. And you let me down.” I was crying. The dams had broken, and there was no going back. But at least I had finally said the little spiel that I had been wanting to say from the moment I walked in the door.

Tom plucked a luxurious handkerchief from his breast pocket and handed it to me. I tried to dab at my eyes in a delicate manner, mindful of my eyeliner.

“Darling…you’re absolutely right. I was a hypocrite, and a cruel one at that. Because we _did_ have so much trust and communication and love in our relationship, and I jeopardized the whole thing, tainted it,” Tom said softly, reaching his hand across the table to place it next to mine; eager to comfort but afraid to startle. “I will take that blame, Charlotte, because it does fall on me. I poisoned what we had…but I’m not the only one to blame.” I blinked at him in surprise.

“After everything we had done and shared, you wouldn’t even look at me. You didn’t allow me to plead my case, either in person or by pen. You shut me out, Charlotte, and for all that I did, I must admit I was disappointed by how swiftly you seemed to excise me from your interest,” Tom continued calmly, his tone not accusatory but merely disheartened. I stared at him in shock, processing his words. We had _both_ been idiots, that became clear. Tom had lied, hiding himself and me from the truth, and I, when the truth unfolded, clung to that one fact with single-minded terror and refused to hear or consider otherwise.

I rallied to get my tear ducts back under control, and attempted to explain myself.

“You’re right, I reacted strongly. Too strongly, maybe. I thought you had just used me. That it was all a game to you.”

A crease appeared between Tom’s brows. “You believed the worst of me.”

“I’m sorry. I guess I always thought you were too good to be true. Like I expected a caveat. I was so happy with you, Tom, but a part of me was always waiting for the other foot to drop,” I admitted, shrugging miserably.

Tom sighed, running a palm over his jaw. We sat in near silence for several minutes, at an impasse. I continued to snuffle, wiping my leaky eyes with Tom’s hanky.

“We’ve both been idiots, it seems,” he said, suddenly. I threw him a watery smile.

“I was just thinking the exact same thing,” I whispered.

He gingerly placed his fingertips on my knuckles, hesitantly sliding along until his hand rested gently over my own. I shuddered internally, furious at myself; that one small action made my stomach flutter more than anything Matthew had ever done. I snatched my hand back as if I had been scalded.

“What…what about Carina?” I asked, feeling sickly even having to say her name. Tom smiled slightly.

“Our divorce was finalised in January, at long last,” he replied, sounding utterly relieved.

“Oh, that’s good you got it sorted,” I said, lamely. You can’t really congratulate someone on a divorce, can you?

“Yes, it is. I finally realised it wasn’t worth the hassle, fighting over assets and capital. I just wanted to be free of her.”

Something else still bothered me.

“But then, who was that woman you were with last night? Is she your…girlfriend?” I inquired, screwing my nose up at the very thought. Tom smothered a laugh.

“That’s Emma. My little sister.” My mouth dropped open. ‘ _I worried myself sick over his sister? His sister?!’_

“Oh. Um…she’s really pretty,” I said, feeling sheepish. Tom laughed again, and I stuck my tongue out at him.

“I’ll pass on the message,” he assured me. His fingers delicately whispered across the back of my hand, tracing the bones more confidently when I didn’t pull away.

“I’m sorry I ruined your hanky,” I said, looking at the square of once-perfect blue fabric clenched in my fist, adorned with streaks of eyeliner.

“I’m sorry I made you cry,” Tom replied, simply. From the look in his eyes, I knew what he really meant: I’m sorry I made you cry all these months.

I nodded. “I forgive you,” I said, softly, turning my hand over so that it was palm-to-palm with his.

Tom’s eyes searched mine, alight with fearful hope. “You do? Truly?” He spoke in hushed tones, the rest of the lunch-time revellers cut out of our little bubble. I traced the lines of his palm with my fingertips, smiling at him unreservedly now.

“Yes. Do you forgive me, too?”

“Yes, of course, Charlotte. I think I’d forgive you anything,” he confessed, seeming a little concerned as he stated the last part. I choked back a giggle.

“I’ll try very hard not to give you any more things to seriously forgive me about,” I promised. Tom wove his fingers through mine, our hands pressed tight together.

“I swear the same,” he said, complete with heart melting smile.

And so, the deal was sealed. I sent a mental apology to Matthew, a break up on the cards for that night. He was a lovely, wonderful boy, but he wasn’t the one for me. The one for me had made a big, nasty mistake, and I had made one too, and we had managed to come to terms with it. I hadn’t thought it possible. I don’t think I’ve ever been so glad to be wrong.

“So, you’re sure you want to try this again?” Tom asked, unable to smother his dazzling smile.

“Yes. Only this time, no money, okay? We’re equals.”

Tom supressed a smirk.

“In every way?” he inquired, quirking a brow. I blushed, recalling the many pleasures of our previous power balance.

“I’ll still be your submissive, if you’ll have me,” I whispered, shyly. I half expected Tom to growl with possessiveness, he looked so pleased with himself.

“Darling, I’d happily have you right here, right now.”

I glanced around the bustling coffee shop, my eyes sliding back to Tom’s mischievous, magnetic gaze, the corners of my lips curling up to mirror his.

“Is that an order, Tom?”

**Author's Note:**

> I've taken such a long break from writing TomLotte (and fanfiction in general), so I'm a bit nervous about publishing this one...let me know what you think!


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